It's Coffee Dean, but not as we know it
by Dizzo
Summary: Dean doesn't make Castiel's first attempt at ordering coffee easy.


IT'S COFFEE DEAN, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT

Here's a little bit of silliness I wrote for the Spn-BigPretzel Outsider POV Comment-Fic Challenge over on LiveJournal.

The prompt I filled was: 'Cas attempts to order Starbucks for the first time. Dean has requested "black coffee" for himself and "some of that frothy shit" for Sam'.

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own them.

xxxxx

It's been a slow day in my role as 'Head Barista' here at Marty's Bean Shack, 'the best coffee in town' so far, but I've got a feeling that it's about to liven up immensely as three of the hottest guys I've ever set eyes on have just walked into the store. I can feel myself standing to attention as a really tall man with long silky hair that I'd kill for, and a slightly shorter guy with spiky, sandy-coloured hair and a face, dear lord, a face that could get me pregnant just by smiling at me, go and sit down at a nearby table.

That leaves the third man. He's quite slight compared to the other two, with a shock of untidy black hair and the bluest eyes I've ever seen … and he's walking straight toward me.

Okay, customer service; here we go …

"Hey there sir, how can I help you?"

The guy's shapely, dark brows knot as he fumbles in the pocket of this god-awful beige trenchcoat he appears to be swimming in and deposits a fistful of coins onto the counter.

"Good morning, I would like some coffees please."

His speech is quite stilted, hesitant; looks like I gotta shy one here.

"Certainly," I'm trying to keep my voice light and friendly; "we do a wide range of coffees to suit all tastes; is that just flat whites you'd like?"

I can see him pause in thought for a moment, as if it's a difficult question. His eyes are boring into mine, like they're trying to see inside my head. Holy hell, they're as blue as the ocean.

Eventually he responded to my question; "no, I would like one large, strong, black, extra hot for Dean please."  
I nod attentitively as I write down his order.

"Then I would like one – did you say – flat white, large and with sugar, for me please."

I nod again, to prompt him to continue.

"And, then some of that frothy shit that Sam likes," he finished his order without missing a beat.

I inwardly congratulate myself for not choking on the tip of the pencil that I'm chewing, as I look back into his face which is completely neutral, gazing expectantly at me. Over his shoulder, I can see the sandy-haired guy sniggering into his hand, completely ignoring the tall dude who's giving him an epic stink-eye.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and my gaze returns to my customer whose expression has taken on a slightly bemused look. He nudges the coins toward me with his fingertips.

"There are sufficient funds here, I counted them myself," he reassures me.

I school my face into the warmest smile I can manage; "I'm sure there is, I just need to be a bit more, um, specific, on your last order." Gesturing toward the menu, I try to help the poor guy along; "did you mean a cappuccino?" I ask as kindly as I can whilst trying not to bust out laughing at the shenanigans going on behind him.

"Is it frothy?" he asks?

"Yes," I reassure him; "very frothy."

He nods, a satisfied smile spreading over his face; "yes, then I would like one of those for Sam, large please."

"Certainly," I smile, scribbling 'large cappuccino' on my pad.

"And he would like you to remove any caffeine from it please," he added.

I have no idea who this guy is or where he's been; he may well have just flown in on a nuclear banana from the planet freakout for all I know. But, what can I say? He sure is darn cute!

"Uh, yeah, I can do that," I reply economically; I'm not sure I'm up to going into the technicalities of decaf coffee right now.

"Thank you, you're very kind," he smiles with genuine relief, and there it is. Strange little weirdo he might be, but who couldn't fall in love with that smile?

I turn, about to start work on making the coffees, when shy-guy's familiar voice pipes up.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Sam would like syrup in his cappu-chin-yo."

"Uh, okay," I sigh, turning back toward him, "what flavour would he like?"

His face fell into a disappointed frown; "I do not know," he mumbled.

"Well, we have vanilla, raspberry, chocolate, hazelnut, almond, coconut, butterscotch, ginger, orange and bubblegum," I list our flavours, counting on my fingers as I go; "which one do you think your friend would like?"

xxxxx

Well, I was right; this will officially go down as one of my more memorable days at work.

I watched as the cute, but odd, guy proudly carried the three coffees back to the table and sat down with his friends. The sandy-haired dude looked up and gave me a smile and a wink that together cranked the temperature in the shop up a good ten degrees.

As I stood, and waited, I had a feeling this wasn't over yet.

"HOLY CRAP…BLEEURGH, CAS, WHAT THE HELL…?"

Yep, I was right - again.

I did suggest that he asked 'Sam' what he wanted, but cute shy guy was adamant he wanted to prove to his friends that he knew what he was doing. And who am I to argue?

The customer is always right.

Even when they can't make their mind up which syrup they want, so they ask for one squirt of all of them.

xxxxx

end


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